Author's Notes: This was originally written for Jo and the Family Haven Fic Challenge. Jo's prompt was that in the episode 'Soft Target', Don mentioned his clutch giving out on the way to college. Write about Don going to college. And here is the result. Special thanks to Dreambrother, DB, for being my awesome Beta once again.
Disclaimer: You got me. I am Cheryl in disguise. Not.
"Hey, watch it buddy," Don growled as a car came too close to taking him out. He jumped to the right, loose gravel skidding underneath his sneakers.
The driver of the shiny silver car paid no heed to Don's expletive, zooming on down the road and around the bend. He disappeared after a moment and the eighteen year old was left alone once again.
Alone and stranded on the side of the road was not where he was supposed to be. Don was supposed to be pulling into the university's campus right about now. He was supposed to be unpacking his many boxes and things into his dorm and meeting his roommate, a fellow baseball player.
Instead, Don was walking down the road back towards his now broken Volkswagen. He'd been driving along just fine when Murphy had decided to intervene with his Law. Don had only been twenty minutes down the road from Pasadena; he hadn't even made it into the proper downtown area.
God was surely laughing somewhere, he thought, it was as if someone didn't want him to go to college.
Hands shoved deep into his pockets, Don rounded the bend that the rude driver had disappeared around just a few moments ago. And there, pulled off to the side of the highway, was the familiar sight of his rusty Volkswagen. The car looked lonely and forlorn in the mid-morning sun's rays, amidst the shadows from the trees.
Picking up his speed, Don continued on down the road along the white painted line. He could see the peeling yellow paint, faded from years of use and tear. There was a rather large dent in the right rear fender, a crack in one light, and many scratches dotting the whole body.
However, despite the dents and scrapes, it was a reliable car. Although it might not have been the most fashionable thing to drive, it got him from point A to point B without much complaint. His faithful yellow Volkswagen had even stood up in the dating department when it came to girls and Friday night outings. Plus, it was affordable for Don and good on gas.
Like many old cars that came from many previous owners, the Volkswagen was mostly reliable. He'd had flat tires and other issues over the last two years; but they'd been minor issues. This was, regrettably, not a minor issue. It didn't even come close.
Don kicked a particularly large rock out of his way and fought the urge to kick something much larger. Now he understood why people got so irritated when their cars broke down. This was worse than LA morning traffic.
So, what had happened?
Perhaps on the one day Don needed his car to work the most, it had failed him and Don had been stranded when he was supposed to be moving into college. Today, the clutch to the Volkswagen had given out, rendering him unable to do anything remotely related to shifting gears, much less being able to drive.
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Maneuvering the car into a higher gear, Don moved his foot over to the gas pedal. With his left hand he manually rolled down his window, letting the air created by the movement of the car to circulate inside. It was hot as Hell outside but the stagnant air was better than nothing.
He rolled his neck and eased back in the seat. Glancing at the rear view mirror, his eyes flitted over the boxes and bags and other things crammed into the backseat. Even his baseball gear had been shoved onto the top of the pile. The backseat was so crammed with his college stuff, seeing as the Volkswagen wasn't exactly a spacious car, that Don couldn't even see out the back. But that didn't bother him. In fact, nothing could bother him right now.
Flipping the radio dial to a new station, Don grinned. Here he was, eighteen years old and on his way to college. He was on his own with freedom that he'd been counting the days down to all summer long. Fifteen minutes ago, Don had said his hasty goodbyes to his Dad, mother, and little brother.
He'd waved goodbye to his childhood home with the largest part of him happy to be leaving; it wasn't that he'd had a horrible childhood, quite the opposite, but like most of his friends who were leaving for college, Don was simply excited to be moving onto the next stage of his life.
Sure, he'd miss his family. His Dad would still be in Pasadena, but his mother and Charlie wouldn't be. They'd be at Princeton and that thought was a much larger pill for Don to swallow. Still, something had kept him from giving in last night and this morning when it came time for his goodbyes.
This change in thought from his happier mood to a more nostalgic one brought a brooding expression to his face. He could see it in the mirror, the dark eyes of his reflection acting as a doppelganger, chastising him for this morning's actions, blaming him for his sudden turn in moods, saying it was his own fault.
A jerk from the Volkswagen jolted Don back into focus. His hand grabbed at the gear, trying to get a grip on the shaking knob. Easing down on the brake, he attempted to get control back over his car. The car didn't cooperate and he had no such luck.
Don watched in shock and fear as the gear shift sank down. It actually sank down in the console area. It…just disappeared. And all he could do was watch.
Something clicked in his brain and he remembered one of his friends talking about a similar experience; the friend had even described the 'disappearing' gear shift. Extracting out of his memories the story from a lunch period last semester, Don recalled that it was a problem with the clutch that had troubled his friend.
Due to the fact that Don no longer had a stick shift and thus could not shift gears, he quickly diagnosed that he was in the same boat. Looking in the side mirror, his eyes checked to see that no one was behind him; there wasn't, which made it easier. The Volkswagen was slowing down, and he guided the car around a bend. It finally coasted to a stop as he pulled off to the side.
Fighting with the door handle, it was old and was prone to getting stuck and fighting back every now and then, Don got out of the now useless car. His tennis shoes crunched and slid on loose rock. Hands griped his hair, sliding back and forth, and he stared as if waiting for some miracle to happen. Finally, he let out a frustrated groan.
Simply staring at it is not going to make something happen, he chided himself.
Looking down the highway and back up towards the bend he'd just come around, Don remembered passing a gas station. There had to be a pay phone there where he could call his Dad from.
He locked the car, tucked his hands and keys into his pockets, and started walking.
It looked like there was something that could ruin his good mood.
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Don had reached the Volkswagen now; the car hadn't moved, not that he really thought it would. He was, however, relieved to see that no one had touched it or his stuff. All he needed was for someone to steal it too.
Laying a hand on the body frame, he touched the faded yellow paint. Two year's worth of memories played through his mind like an old movie. He let the film roll on, having nothing to do but wait for his father and the tow truck to show up:
'There was the time he'd let Charlie drive, just down the street and only for a few seconds. The prom with Val. That warning he'd gotten instead of a ticket the one time he'd speeded to make it home on time...'
Eventually the figurative reel of film in his head came to a stop and Don was left right back where he started: bored out of his mind, waiting for a tow truck and a ride, and wondering why this had to happen to him. There had to be a reason. His mother was always saying there was a reason for everything.
A car came around the bend, swerving and hitting the white line. Don watched as the person approached and slowed down, coming to an uneasy halt next to him. He would have been worried, his father's voice consciously saying inside his head to never trust strangers, but for the young girl in the passenger seat; she looked to be twelve or so and eyed Don's older eighteen year old self with a mixture of boredom and intrigue.
"You need any help?" The girl's father - or presumably her father - asked, leaning over the steering wheel to properly see Don.
Don shook his head and smiled. "No thanks. I'm just waiting for the tow truck."
"You sure?" The father genuinely looked as if he wanted to help, his receding hair line and honest expression humorous.
Still, Don said no again and waved as the father eased up off the brake. He felt somewhat bad but there really was nothing the man could have done.
After a moment, Don was left with only the summer heat and the stagnant air. Sweat had appeared and the slow trickling feeling down his neck and back was enough to make him fidget. Plucking at the cotton of his green shirt, Don moved the fabric back and forth, allowing the air to cool his skin.
Willing his skin to cool down, his feet began pacing the painted line, trying to stir any extra breeze that he could. His gaze passed over the crammed interior of the Volkswagen once, twice, and then finally stopped at the passenger seat. Don stopped too, his hand releasing the bunched shirt, all his focus on the object on the seat:
Right where Don had carelessly tossed it this morning was the book that his mother had made for him.
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"Now, are you sure you know where you're going, Donnie?"
Don laid his baseball bat on top of a garbage bag full of clothes before turning to face his mother. "Yes, Mom."
"And you've got everything? You haven't forgotten anything, have you?" Margaret Eppes asked, a hint of motherly worry in her tone as she hovered next to the rear of the Volkswagen.
His glove followed the bat, the last of his college things, and he closed the backseat door. Straightening, he turned to his mother again. He smiled which took the edge off his somewhat annoyed tone. "Yes, Mom. I've got everything. You've checked it, I've checked it, and you checked it again this morning. I know where I'm going. I'll be fine."
A sad smile came over his mother's face. Don tried to cheer her up with a smile of his own, but it didn't seem to work. She turned her face and moved away.
Don watched as she disappeared into the Craftsman, pushing past his father. He didn't know what else to do and was at a loss as to how to make her feel better; he couldn't help it that today was move in day for college.
His father joined him next to the yellow car. Always knowing what was on Don's mind, the elder man's words were right on the mark. "She's going to miss you, you know. None of this is what we thought it would be. Her and Charlie at Princeton and me and you here. It's hard on her."
Don sighed, "I know. You're going to be okay, aren't you, Dad? Here alone."
His dad's demeanor changed and he gave him a wink. "Me? Of course I'll be fine. Now, go tell your brother goodbye."
Charlie, hearing the prompt from their dad, slowly started walking from the doorstep. His curly haired brother had grown quieter as the days leading up to today had dwindled. Once again, Don had tried to make it easier for the thirteen year old. Despite having a horrible senior year that had nearly driven them apart, Don had made an effort to make this summer count between them. Trying to stop time and create memories.
Pushing off the car, Don met him halfway, right in the middle of the front lawn. Trying to break the awkwardness, he opened with, "Just a few months ago you and I were rolling around out here."
Charlie's eyes flickered and he frowned. "We were fighting."
Swallowing, Don thought that might not have been the best way to start this goodbye. Certainly not by bringing up bad memories of prom and Val and all that. "Yeah. Listen, Buddy, I'm sorry about all that. This year wasn't exactly the best between us, was it? I kind of screwed it up."
A small smile now. "It wasn't all your fault. I messed up too."
Silence passed between them and Don huffed, running a hand through his hair.
Charlie shuffled his feet and then looked up at Don. "I'm going to miss you, Donnie."
The seriousness in his little kid brother's voice clenched at his chest. Don pulled him close and ruffled his curls. "I'm gonna miss you too, Buddy."
They stayed like that until his mother's voice interrupted. "Donnie, it's time for you to go."
Don released Charlie and together they walked back to the Volkswagen. His mother stood next to his father, her husband's arm wrapped supportively around her shoulders. He made a round of hugs, Charlie again, his father, and finally his mother.
When she pulled back after what seemed like several minutes, tears shone in her eyes. She shushed him and shook her head when he tried to comment. Her hands picked up a book on the trunk and pressed it into his hands. "Look at it later."
It took another few minutes for him to actually make it into the car, struggling to actually leave against the rising emotions. As he drove away, passing homes that he'd played at over the years, Don pushed thoughts of sadness and regret away.
Freedom lay ahead.
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True to her request, Don hadn't looked at it. It was later now, though, and he pulled open the front cover.
It wasn't a book, like he'd thought. It was a scrapbook or a memory book. Inside were things ranging from his birth to this summer: newspaper clippings of his little leagues games, printout of his stats, awards he'd won, and other priceless treasure Margaret Eppes had collected over the years.
Flipping through the stiff pages, Don came to a section full of pictures. There were ones of just him. However, it was the ones with him and his family that evoked the wave of nostalgia. Birthdays and 'firsts' had been captured and put here on these pages.
Tears came to his eyes as he found one of him and Charlie. Closing the book, he swallowed down the lump in his throat. Now, Don wished that everything had been different; that their senior year hadn't led up to tense words and slammed doors and a fight on the front lawn.
The sound of crunching tires and an engine being killed drew Don's attention. He smiled at the familiar figure of his father.
Fortunately, by the time the tow truck had arrived, Don and his father had been able to transfer all his belongings.
They stood side by side as the yellow Volkswagen was loaded up and taken away. Don watched his car and his broken clutch ride away, following his father after a minute.
His father made a wide U-turn and started back towards home. On the way, Don explained what had happened.
It was when they were back in the neighborhood and passing those childhood haunts he'd been so excited to get away from that Alan spoke:
"Well, Donnie, it looks like you're stuck with us a little longer."
Don grinned as he looked out his window. Before, he would have been upset for having his college freedom delayed.
But now, his gaze lingering on his mother's gift in his lap, Don thought that it was alright if he got a little more time with his family.
Maybe, being "stuck" with them, wasn't so bad after all.
The End
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